弹琴江浦夜漏永,敛衽窃听独激昂。
风松瀑布已清绝,更爱玉珮声琅珰。
自从郑卫乱雅乐,古器残缺世已忘。
千家寥落独琴在,有如老仙不死阅兴亡。
世人不容独反古,强以新曲求铿锵。
微音淡弄忽变转,数声浮脆如笙簧。
无情枯木今尚尔,何况古意堕渺茫。
江空月出人响绝,夜阑更请弹文王。
弹琴江浦夜漏永,敛衽窃听独激昂。
风松瀑布已清绝,更爱玉珮声琅珰。
自从郑卫乱雅乐,古器残缺世已忘。
千家寥落独琴在,有如老仙不死阅兴亡。
世人不容独反古,强以新曲求铿锵。
微音淡弄忽变转,数声浮脆如笙簧。
无情枯木今尚尔,何况古意堕渺茫。
江空月出人响绝,夜阑更请弹文王。
夜晚在江边船上,听父亲弹琴,更漏声长。
我整理衣襟,暗自聆听,独自心潮激昂。
风过松林、瀑布飞泻之声已清雅绝伦,
但我更爱那玉佩相击般的清脆琅珰。
自从郑卫之音扰乱了雅正的古乐,
古乐器残破缺损,已被世人遗忘。
千家寂寥,唯有这张古琴留存,
犹如不老的神仙,阅尽世间兴亡。
世人不能容忍独自复古,
强求以新曲来获得铿锵音响。
微弱的琴音轻弄,忽然转变调式,
几声浮脆之音,宛如笙簧鸣响。
无情的枯木(指琴身)如今尚且如此,
何况那渺茫难寻的古意更在何方?
江面空阔,月亮升起,人声已绝,
夜深时分,请您再弹一曲《文王操》吧。
On the boat at night, I listen to my father play the qin, as the water-clock drips long.
I straighten my robe and listen in secret, my spirit stirred alone.
The wind through pines, the waterfall's cascade—already pure and rare,
Yet I love still more the jade pendants' clear and tinkling sound there.
Since the tunes of Zheng and Wei brought chaos to the noble air,
Ancient instruments lie broken, forgotten by the world's care.
A thousand houses silent, only this old qin remains,
Like an ageless sage who witnesses the rise and fall of domains.
The world cannot endure a solitary return to the past;
They force new melodies, seeking clangor that will last.
Faint notes, played lightly, suddenly shift and change their key,
A few floating, brittle tones like pipes of reed to me.
Even this lifeless, dried-out wood can still produce such art,
How much more the ancient spirit, lost and drifting far apart?
The river empty, the moon rises, all human sounds are stilled;
As the night deepens, I beg you to play 'King Wen,' as of old willed.
琴声激发听者超越当下境遇的情感认同。
写江边夜晚聆听琴声时内心的激昂与感动。
本诗为七言古诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理